


Oikawa Tooru is Used to Attention

by imaginary_dragonling



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Athletes, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending, Platonic Relationships, Post-Canon, Students, Team, Team Dynamics, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 19:52:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17148083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_dragonling/pseuds/imaginary_dragonling
Summary: Oikawa Tooru is here toimpress.He had Miyagi eating out of the palm of his hand and now he intends to conquer Tokyo. But university life is tougher than Tooru would like to admit and not everyone is so easily dazzled. He's here to win and make a name for himself. He doesn't need to like a player to work with him. It's nothing personal. He just hates Kuroo Tetsurou.





	Oikawa Tooru is Used to Attention

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for [Roxas](http://miyatchuumu.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> I hope you enjoy the Angst, Fluff, and Platonic stuff! :D
> 
> More ~~angst~~ fluff on the way!!
> 
> Big thanks to [dameofnodelicacy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameOfNoDelicacy/pseuds/DameOfNoDelicacy) for the beta and the encouragement!

Oikawa Tooru is used to attention.

Tooru continues humming and pretends not to notice the stares and not-so-subtle nudges of the two girls. Just as he passes them, Tooru flicks his head, tossing his fringe out of his eyes. He hears the girls titter and he smiles to himself, pleased to note that one of his tricks still work  even in the big city. If he wasn’t in a hurry, he might have stopped to chat. But time waits for no man, and Tooru doesn’t break stride as he continues towards his destination.

Back in Aobajousai, turning heads was a daily occurrence for Tooru. With good looks, great hair, and a charming personality (hush, Iwa-chan!), what was not to love? He had no shortage of admirers at Aobajousai — groups of giggling girls and hopeful smiles from boys. It helped that he was a star athlete on a powerhouse team, and the demand for his time from the groups of girls from other schools who followed him around at tournaments and the journalists who accosted him after matches, clamouring for an interview, was no less flattering.

Oikawa Tooru is used to attention, and he had Miyagi eating out of the palm of his hand.

Tokyo is a whole different world. Moving to the city was exciting and starting at a university with a top tier volleyball team sent shivers down his spine — excitement and nervousness rolled into one. Tooru was looking forward to carving a name for himself on his biggest stage yet. Even if he was the only one that he knew of from Miyagi attending his university, Tooru was confident in his ability to rise above the rest. The few friendly scouts who had reached out to him and told him that they would be keeping an eye on him helped. He can’t wait to get started.

The squick of rubber-soled shoes on Taraflex hurries his steps towards the gym. It is the first day of practice and while he is early, others are earlier still.

Tooru bows as he enters the gym. “Thank you for having me!”

A quick glance tells him that the players clustered around the gym are likely fellow first years. None of them wear the university’s colours and their bodies are still relatively young, teenagers at the end of growth spurts and only now beginning to pack on muscle. More tellingly, their faces hold the nervous hopefulness Tooru feels inside, even as their eyes dart around and watch each other, sizing up those who would be friends and who would be rivals. They are all here to impress, all stars of their high school teams, and eager to prove that they can be stars here too. Recognition flickers in a few of them as they welcome him in. Tooru puts on his best smile. It never hurts to start off as friends.

He is directed to the locker rooms and after a quick change of attire, Tooru finds his way back to the courts. He is crouched by the benches at the side, head bowed as he laces his shoes, when someone hails him.

“Heads up! Ball incoming!”

Tooru looks up just in time to see a ball spinning towards him before it hits him square in the face.

“Yo, are you alright?” Tooru hears a voice above him as he yelps in pain.

The stinging subsides, and through the burn at the back of his eyes, Tooru blinks his eyes open and looks up.

Piercing golden eyes and the worst haircut Tooru has ever seen look down at him. The stranger cracks into a lopsided smile, exposing white even teeth as he says, “Sorry about that. ‘Twas my bad.” The stranger extends a hand. “Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“Oikawa Tooru,” he says, swallowing his scathing retort as he takes the proffered hand and stands. To his dismay, he is several centimeters shorter than his new teammate, who seems to notice this as well if the grin on his face is anything to go by. Tooru plasters a smile on his face. Losing his cool now would be bad form.

Kuroo Tetsurou’s smirk deepens. He opens his mouth, but whatever he is about to say gets cut off by his warm up partner calling for him.

“Sorry about that again.” Kuroo bends to scoop up his wayward ball. “See ya on the court, Oika’a.” With not so much as a backward glance, Kuroo struts back to the court and his waiting partner, leaving Tooru staring after the back of his impudent head. It’s not the first impression that Tooru had hoped for, and Kuroo’s nonchalance rubs him the wrong way. After all, Oikawa Tooru is used to attention.

Practice starts soon after and Tooru lines up with the rest of the first years to introduce himself to the coach and the rest of the club. Tooru is sandwiched between two shorter players — liberos by training, judging by their builds and what he had seen of their skills. He notices that Kuroo is also among the long line of new recruits, his ridiculous hair sticking up above the heads between them.

Tooru scoffs and faces forward as the introductions start from his end of the line. Their coach is a shrewd no nonsense sort of man, acknowledging each player with a curt nod as his assistant takes notes and checks off names. The reactions of the other players are far more entertaining, though none do more than nudge each other and smile at inner jokes. Sometimes, an introduction gets a beaming smile and acknowledgement of an older player — the pride and familiarity of reunited teammates written on their faces. Other times, the excitement and interest is more widespread, in line with Tooru’s own observations of who some of the more impressive players are. He files each individual’s reaction away. All eyes turn on him soon.

“Oikawa Tooru from Aobajousai High School,” Tooru announces, stepping forward with a bow. “Miyagi prefecture. Setter. Thank you for working with me!”

He feels the attention from the other players spike, sees their coach give him a small smile and a nod, and notices the keen eyes of their captain, a well respected wing spiker eyeing him with keen interest. Tooru steps back in line, a satisfied smile on his face.

The next player announces himself as a libero, and introductions continue.

“Kuroo Tetsurou, Nekoma High School in Tokyo. Middle blocker,” a familiar voice drawls.

Their coach grunts. “Good job reaching nationals at the Spring tournament.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kuroo purrs as he steps back in line. Kuroo’s gaze flicks over to Tooru and their eyes meet. As Tooru blushes, embarrassed at being caught staring, Kuroo gives him an impertinent wink. A muscle in Tooru’s eye twitches, and he wonders if it is just his fate to be plagued by insolent middle blockers.

Practice goes well. Tooru gets a good sense of the skills of each player and likes what he sees. He has played with college players before — Miyagi teams that Aobajousai had connections with and were able to arrange practice matches with — but this team was at the top of the university league and it showed in the caliber of its players.

“A bit higher, Oikawa.”

“That was perfect, Oikawa!”

“Oikawa, maybe a bit closer to the net? I’ll come in faster.”

Oikawa listens and adjusts. He gives each player what they ask for, noting how they did and how they could do better. It’s too early to start calling the shots, and with three other setters ahead of him in seniority, Tooru is content to observe and learn about his fellow teammates for now. Especially the first string players. Tooru pauses to watch their captain spike a ball as well as Ushiwaka would. The ball bounces all the way to the second floor stands and he gives the setter a high five as he goes to retrieve it.

“Yo.” A mop of jet black hair and a lopsided grin was all the warning he got before a ball is being tossed at him.

On instinct, Tooru sets it, a near perfect time difference attack, on point in height and timing. Except this isn’t Aobajousai and that’s not Kindaichi he is setting too. Tooru opens his mouth, about to apologize and call for a redo when  _ BAM _ . The spiker hits his toss and lands in front of Tooru.

“Hmm, not bad. But a little more warning next time would be nice?” Kuroo grins at him like a Cheshire cat and Tooru snaps his mouth shut.

“Well, Tetsu-chan, you still hit it pretty well,” Tooru stretches a smile on his face.

“I used to do time difference attacks with my setter in high school.”

“Oh.” Tooru blinks, unsure of what else to say.

“He was great. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.”

With that, Kuroo dips below the net to the other side to retrieve his ball, leaving Tooru to wonder what kind of special player Kuroo’s former setter must have been to elicit such high praise, and why he wasn’t with Kuroo here, competing against Tooru for a spot on the university team.

He doesn’t have long to dwell on it as the coach whistles for attention and the first years are split into teams. Practice games begin. It’s a constant shuffle of players with the rest of the club getting mixed in and Tooru and Kuroo never end up on the same team. By the time the coach calls it and directs them to service practice, Tooru had played against Kuroo four times resulting in three wins and one loss — not that he was keeping score or anything.

Service practice goes well. The hard work that Tooru put in over the summer shows as he gets in serve after serve. His teammates look at him in awe and admiration and the assistant coach compliments him, telling him to keep up the good work. Tooru smiles and graciously accepts their praise, promises to keep working on his accuracy, and asks that they keep working with him.

Tooru finishes practice and exits the gym with his head held high, pleased with his performance and confident that his teammates see him as someone they would like to play with — someone confident, yet modest. It’s a fine balance to strike, but he is Oikawa Tooru. He is used to attention.

His good mood lasts until he reaches his new apartment. Footsteps trail behind him and when Tooru glances back, Kuroo Tetsurou gives him a cheeky wave.

“I guess you live here too huh?”

“I guess,” Tooru answers, trying to keep his tone light even as his heart sinks.

They make their way up in silence, and Tooru pulls out his phone to check his messages in the elevator. There’s three from Iwa-chan, a string of memes in the Aobajousai group chat from Matsukawa and Hanamaki plus a missed call and a text message from his mother reminding him to call back.

When the elevator dings on his floor, Tooru starts forward, only to find himself blocked by Kuroo.

“You’re on this floor too, huh?”

“Apparently,” Tooru replies, hoping that Kuroo will go left as he goes right.

No such luck. They follow each other down the hallway and stop at a pair of doors to adjacent units.

“Well,” Kuroo grins, “see you around, Oika’a. Let the water run for a hot minute before you get in.”

Before Tooru can open his mouth to ask why would he do that, Kuroo is gone, his door slamming in Tooru’s face.

“Rude,” Tooru mutters under his breath, letting himself into his own apartment and shutting the door with a snap.

Kuroo’s cryptic remark rolls around in his head. Tooru had already showered at the gym and he saw no reason to run the taps for water he didn’t need. Mad, Tooru decides. Kuroo Tetsurou must be quite mad. Anyone who walked out of the house with bed head like that must surely not be quite right.

Tooru looks around his empty apartment, unpacked boxes still stacked along a wall. His roommates are not home and for that, Tooru is thankful. He has only met them briefly and while he likes them well enough to get along, he misses the easy going teasing of Hanamaki and Matsukawa and the solid familiarity of Iwa-chan. Tooru wishes, not for the first time, that at least one of them had also found his way to Tokyo. A distinctive braying laugh sounds through the thin walls of his apartment and Tooru pushes himself off his front door and heads towards his room, pulling out his phone and punching call on the familiar ID.

He only has to wait for two short rings when the call is picked up and a gruff voice barks down the line. “Oi, Shittykawa.”

Tooru can’t keep the smile out of his voice as he replies without bite, “Mean, Iwa-chan.” 

Tooru feels himself relax for the first time in hours.

 

* * *

 

Tooru wakes the next day with the sun shining on his face. He sits up quickly, muscles tired but not yet sore from yesterday’s exertion, and reaches for his phone.

He is late for class.

As he scrambles off the bed, he kicks himself for staying up way too late, even if it was to talk to Iwa-chan. He sends his best friend a quick text message, hoping that he isn’t late to class either before grabbing his clothes and towel and heading to the bathroom. The apartment is quiet and the gentle snoring from behind his roommates’ closed doors clues Tooru in to the fact that he is the only one awake. He wonders if he is the only one running late for an 8 a.m. class.

Once inside the shared bathroom, Tooru sheds his pajamas and steps under the showerhead. He turns on the hot water and yelps! Tooru leaps back from the cold spray and clamps a hand over his mouth, biting down so that he doesn’t cry out and wake his roommates.

Cautiously, he stretches out a hand and shudders at the icy cold temperature. Tooru chews on his bottom lip. He is already running late for his first day of class, but a shower this cold still gives him pause.

Unbidden, a snarky voice echoes advice in his head:  _ Let the water run for a hot minute before you get in. _

Tooru glances at his phone and draws in a shivering breath. One minute. Then he will take the plunge.

Thankfully, the water warms up in the next forty seconds and Tooru wastes no time in jumping back in. Once he’s done in the bathroom, he rushes out of the apartment, his hair not quite perfect but good enough.

It’s only five minutes past the class start time when he finally locates and stands outside the large lecture hall. Tooru runs a hand through his hair, takes a deep breath, and pushes the doors open.

The professor who had been speaking stops and Tooru feels the curious eyes of the hundred odd students in the class crawl over him. Tooru bows to the professor and class, apologizes for being late and slips into the first vacant seat he can see, head held high.

The professor checks his name off, chides him for being late, and then picks up his notes again to resume giving an overview of the syllabus.

Tooru smiles at the few students who he catches still staring at him and they quickly avert their eyes. Tooru sighes and tries to pay attention, though he is already lost by the unfamiliar jargon the professor is using. Tooru bows his head and begins scribbling down notes.

He is used to attention, and so he knows how fickle and fleeting it can be. With any luck, they would have all forgotten about him by next period and he can put this disastrous start to the day behind him.

With that, Tooru resolves to be a model student for this class, even if it is an elective that, while necessary for graduation, doesn’t count towards his chosen course of study.

Tooru is so absorbed with paying attention to his professor that he doesn’t notice a pair of golden eyes, half hidden beneath a messy fringe, watching him.

 

* * *

 

University isn’t supposed to be easy, but Tooru will never admit to anyone just how hard he is finding it to keep up.

Between volleyball practice, physical conditioning sessions, and the workload of a Sociology and Political Science double major, Tooru can barely find time to sleep, much less carve out time to socialize or attend the parties and events a Tokyo university has to offer.

Before, he was a big fish in a little pond. Now, it’s all Tooru can do to keep his head above water.

After the first few weeks, his roommates stop pestering him to hang out, though they leave him an open invitation to anything they attend. Tooru smiles and thanks them, assuring them that he just needs time to adjust, that midterms are coming up, and that team selections are drawing near, so perhaps next time? They nod and sympathize. One of them is also a first year and another is also a double major, but none of them are athletes as well, though they all claim to know a friend of a friend who is and know how rough it is to be a student athlete.

Still, they invite their friends over and spend time in the apartment, watching movies or chatting well into the night. Tooru spends more and more time in the library, poring over fine printed textbooks or tapping out essays on his laptop.

There always seems to be an essay due or a test to study for, and while Tooru is reasonably satisfied with his performance on the court, he needs to keep his grades up if he wants to continue playing.

It’s on one of these nights when Tooru is working through an enormous pile of homework that he is rudely interrupted by the last person he wants to see.

“Yo.”

Tooru tries not to scowl, looks up at his teammate, and with the sweetest smile he can muster says, “Tetsu-chan! What a surprise seeing you here. What can I do for you?”

Kuroo’s narrow eyes only crinkle at the corners and he leans forward to say, “Come over to my place tomorrow after dinner. I’m having a study session with a couple of other people for that 8 a.m. Organic Chemistry class we all take.”

Tooru takes off his glasses and rubs at his tired eyes. He hates that class. It was the only science class that would fit into his schedule, and despite him spending twice as much time on it and its infuriating problem sets, he was barely maintaining a B+ in it. The dratted problem set he was working on right now was for that class and it was going to keep him here all night, he already knew it.

That Kuroo was also taking that class was no consolation. In fact… Tooru peers up at Kuroo, at the abominable bird’s nest on his head, the keen eyes that are looking around the library, and the lazy smirk on his smooth, stress-free face. ...Tooru wants to punch something.

“I’m sorry, Tetsu-chan. But I’ll have to deprive you of my presence.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. We can talk about volleyball or watch a movie when we’re done.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have that kind of time to spare.”

Tooru begins rifling through the stack of books around him, pretending to look for his notes and hoping Kuroo would take the hint.

Kuroo isn’t dumb. After playing with him and watching him on the court, Tooru could recognize the scheming look in his eye. Kuroo watched his opponents with the same kind of intensity Tooru did, breaking down strengths and weaknesses and coming up with counter plays. That meant that Kuroo often had the same ideas that Tooru did, and he sometimes reached them first, infuriatingly so.

Kuroo drummed his fingers on the desk and Tooru looked up.

“Well, if you change your mind, my door’s always open to you. Oh and try the formula on page 52. It’s a favourite of Hiragawa-sensei’s.”

Kuroo sauntered off, sitting annoyingly close at only one table away where his gang of friends welcomed him back.

Tooru huffed and bent once more to his homework, gritting his teeth in frustration when the equation still made no sense to him. Grudgingly, he flipped his textbook open to page 52 and after studying the formula explained there, glanced over the problem with new comprehension.

Oikawa Tooru is used to attention. He is also very good at ignoring it, and he is careful not to look over at the table where a pair of golden eyes sit watching him.

 

* * *

 

 

The insistent buzz of his cell phone jolts him awake. Tooru unsticks his cheek from the page of the book he had fallen asleep in, wiping away the drool that had collected there.

His phone falls still and silent just as he pulls it out. Four missed calls and about twenty unanswered text messages from Iwa-chan, each one increasing in threats and annoyance before number fifteen peaks and dives into worry and alarm.

Tooru quickly opens up a new message:  **Sorry Iwa-chan. I fell asleep at the library. I’m ok.**

It’s half past midnight and Tooru kneads at the crick in his neck. He had told Iwa-chan he would be home an hour ago, they usually talked before midnight. He must have dozed off right around  eleven. Tooru grimaces down at the work he has left. He’s settled in the 24 hour area, so there’s no danger of him getting kicked out, but the library is quiet, deserted. Kuroo and his gang of friends had left around ten.

His phone vibrates and Iwa-chan’s message pops up:  **Oikawa go home and go to sleep.**

It’s the lack of an insulting nickname that does it, that tells Tooru how worried Iwaizumi is for him, and that makes the back of his eyes burn.

**I can’t. I’ve got about an hour’s work left to do.** Tooru’s breath catches at the sudden panic that maybe he won’t be able to finish ever. Tooru swallows and forces himself to finish writing his message:  **I’ll go home after an hour. Promise.**

He hits send and places his phone face down, taking a few deep breaths in preparation of taking up his pen again.

It’s only then that he notices the cup of coffee sitting across the table from him. The cup is turned so that he can make out the name scrawled on it: Oikawa Tooru.

Tooru hesitates and then reaches out and takes the cup. It’s still lukewarm and appears untouched. The aroma and the promise of caffeine is enticing. He takes an experimental sip. Caramel creme brulee with whipped cream. His favourite.

Tooru glances around the empty library again, but whoever left him the coffee is long gone. Tooru takes another sip and sets the coffee down. 

Oikawa Tooru is used to attention. No small number of secret admirers had left candy and gifts on his desk and in his locker before, though few ever got his favourites right. His mysterious coffee gifter was either incredible astute or just plain lucky. In any case, he would find them and thank them later.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it!! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
> 
> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * keyboard smashes
>   * reaction images/gifs
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> _This author loves interaction with her readers and replies to comments._
> 
>  
> 
> Come talk to me!! :D


End file.
